


i am damaged

by PandaHero



Category: Heathers (1988)
Genre: Anxiety, Drabble Collection, F/F, Panic Attacks, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Veronica is guilty over every little thing, there'll be occasional fluff probably
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-11
Updated: 2015-09-19
Packaged: 2018-04-14 03:27:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4548555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PandaHero/pseuds/PandaHero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>its hard. everything. veronica doesn't think she'll pull through. senior year is quickly proving to be a wall she cannot climb.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. linger

**Author's Note:**

> ayy so i like just finished the movie and its 3 am and i'll eat a goddamn thermometer if roni isnt fucked up after all that shit so heres a drabble dump full of little scenes that all take place after the end of the movie.

 

As soon as the word trigger leaves Ms. Fleming's mouth, it sits heavily on Veronica Sawyer's already strained chest. Ms. Fleming had brought the seniors into an empty classroom, insisting they needed to be properly educated on matters relating to depression, anxiety, and of course, suicide. She’d brought up the topic of panic attacks, and possible triggers, and that’s when Veronica shut off.

Trigger. Gun trigger. Like the gun she shot JD with. Like the gun he shot Ram with.

Ich Luge. She'd looked it up. "I'm lying." She should've known, it's her fault, she should've known.

She wants to puke. She wants to die.

She deserves to after all she’s done, after all she didn’t do, after every blink when staring at Heather Chandler’s dead body. “Well at least you got what you wanted.” His voice bleeds through the back of her head and down her neck, getting all over her hair and running down her back. How would he turn that one into a suicide?

Reality has a vice grip on Veronica’s lungs and it’s sudden squeezing brings her back to the classroom. Her neck feels constricted and suddenly Heather McNamara has a hand on her shoulder and is staring at her with a worried expression. She says something, maybe, the brunette’s hearing is fuzzy and she can’t tell if Heather’s lips are moving or not. 

Before she knows it, Heather’s leading her away from everyone, one hand on the small of the brunette’s back as she speaks muffled words. 

Veronica didn’t know she had closed her eyes until she feels her back hit a wall. The shock forced her eyes open, and from the side of her sight she sees Heather Duke give her a look.

She can’t tell what kind of look. She can’t pick out the emotion. But it feels like vinegar in a burn wound and Veronica is suddenly unsure if what she’s seeing is real or not. It feels real, but she’s certain that Heather Duke’s teeth are not that sharp, and that her hair is not that shade of brown, and that she doesn’t wear long black coats and that she is not Jason Dean.

But still, she hears the word “Perfecto,” slip from JD’s mouth and then his teeth are knives, long and sharp, tearing through his face, blood pouring out onto the floor.. She can see her reflection in the silver blades.

The hallway is heavy, her lungs are murky- but there’s hot liquid running down her face and someone is holding her hands.

“Veronica,” Heather says pleadingly. “Veronica, it’s me, Heather. Can you hear me? I’m right here, it’s okay.”

Blinking tears from her eyes, Veronica looks through her gnarled bangs and up at the blonde in front of her. It feels strange, as if the situation should be reversed. 

She should be comforting Heather. Heather almost killed herself a week ago. Heather almost killed herself because Veronica fucking murdered her friends. She poisoned Chandler, she started this. She should be apologizing to Heather. Apologizing, confessing, she’s supposed to be strong. Strong and smart and not breaking in the middle of the school hallway.

Heather’s voice is soft but it’s enough to bring Veronica back to earth. “Look at me, it’s alright, you’re alright. Just- Just keep looking at me and and take a deep breath, okay?”

She tries to do that, tries to stop thinking and just look at Heather’s pretty green eyes. She shakes when she tries to breathe, air taste like ash and she wants to spit it out.

“I’m sorry.” Veronica surprises herself with her own voice, it sounds as faraway as she feels. “I’m sorry,” she says again. “Sorry, sorry.” 

She repeats the word like a sickness and when she finds herself murmuring it into Heather’s shoulder she craves a lighter to burn herself with. 

She closes her eyes, and resists the urge to sing Mary Had a Little Lamb.

 

 

 


	2. choke me with the straps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which duke tries to be a semi-decent person and i reference the musical quite a bit

“Veronica, give me your bag.” Heather Duke’s voice rings through the near-empty hallway, catching the attention of whatever students were still milling about their lockers. She doesn’t pay attention to them, though, all her attention is focused on one Veronica Sawyer and her overly-heavy backpack.

She’d been there yesterday, been there when Veronica’s exhausted body had collapsed under the weight of it, as if the thing were made of lead and her body merely a feather. It’d made her feel sick.

They hadn’t been on good terms for a while, they still weren’t, not really. But Heather hates how skinny Veronica’s gotten and how much time she spends in Ms. Fleming’s office, leaving Heather McNamara to bounce her leg worriedly while Duke grinds her teeth.

Things had changed, quickly. Too quickly. Heather still wasn’t sure what happened when, to who, why, how. But that kiss an ash covered Veronica had given her had left a giddy feeling Heather’s stomach for days. And she’ll be dammed if the little dick up and dies on her before she can try to bandage the disheveled remains of their already rocky friendship.

“Veronica,” she says again, unconsciously trying to imitate Chandler’s stern voice.

Veronica merely shakes her head, eyes wild and wide and terrified. She positions her body as if ready to fight, and then hugs the backpack close to her chest.

With a trembling voice that Heather hadn’t expected, she whispers, “No.”

Not giving up without a fight, Heather steps closer and takes hold of one of the straps. “You’re gonna kill yourself lugging this thing around. Let me take it.”

Something in Veronica shifts, and suddenly her backpack begins to feel smaller and smaller, until it’s small enough to be held in one hand. Until it’s small enough for JD to take from her. Until it’s small enough to explode in a brilliant flash of blue pen ink, notebook paper, and stolen pills.

When the noise dies down and smoke starts clearing she’s on the floor and Heather is yelling at some other students.

“What the fuck are you looking at,” she says, voice shrill. “Go get Heather, one of you.” After a moment of silence and stillness, she speaks again. “Did you hear me? Go get Heather!”

There are footsteps, and a shaken Veronica assumes whoever Heather had been talking to has left.

She feels her backpack slipping from her arms and someone grabbing her shoulders. Panicked, her breath hitches and her voice comes tumbling out of her lips and spills over onto the floor

“Don’t, don’t. Let me, don’t.”

There’s a second pair of hands now, underneath her arms and puling her against something warm. She can’t tell which hands are which, whose are whose, but her hair is being brushed from her face and slowly, slowly, she relaxes.

“I’d like to make it through a day without fucking up,” says a muffled voice. It sounds sad and angry and distressed all at once and Veronica wants to know who it is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> funfact H.D was my fav for a good part of the movie but then Chandler and died and Duke went from cinnamon roll to problematic dick in like 3 minutes


	3. dont tell heather

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which my fav minor character makes an appearance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oops sorry this one is short and i wrote it like eighty years ago so its not vry good but w/e this is a drabble dump

It’s a hot, dry Tuesday when Tracey catches Veronica on the steps.

Veronica looks mostly dead, and Tracey shrugs to herself, assuming the heat has gotten to her. Giving Veronica a charming grin, she says, “Sup kiddo.”

Veronica swallows dryly, “Hey.”

Her voice is low and monotonous, sounding as dead as she looks. “Bad day?” Tracey asks, bumping her shoulder against the brunette’s. Waiting for a reply, she pulls a small plastic bag from her pocket, along with a metal bandage container and a business card for a local law firm.

Veronica exhales dully “Yeah. Flem won’t leave me alone. Can’t do chemistry for shit. Fell down the fucking stairs at lunch. Been real peachy.” The sudden smell of weed- well, a stronger smell of weed, Tracey smells like weed all the time- reaches Veronica’s nose and she looks to her companion in curiosity.

“Sorry ‘bout that whole thing with JD by the way. You can’t seem to catch a break.”

She hums in response, watching Tracey’s thin fingers expertly rip and fold small piece of paper from the business card, and then place it at the end of a bigger sheet of paper. Tracey gives Veronica a glance through the side of her shades before rolling up the joint and taking a cheap looking lighter from her pocket.

“Want a hit,” she says coolly.

Veronica looks uncertain for a moment, glancing over at the field of practicing cheerleaders, before looking turning back to Tracey.

“Yes.”


End file.
